1522 


CONSUL 


UC-HBLF 


60?   H30 


RICHARD  HARDING  DAVIS 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFQRNJL& 
DAVIS 


-X*— 

^-^/^     / 


THE  CONSUL 


Then  I  am  to  understand,"  he  exclaimed,  "that you  refuse 
to  carry  out  the  wishes  of  a  United  States  Senator 
and  of  the  President  of  the  United  States?" 


THE  CONSUL 


BY 
RICHARD  HARDING  DAVIS 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

1911 


LIBRARY 


Copyright,  1911,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
Published  May,  1911 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

Since  the  events  described  in  this  story 
are  supposed  to  have  taken  place,  innu 
merable  reforms  have  been  brought  about 
in  the  consular  service.  In  consequence, 
to  suggest  that  the  story  is  a  picture  of  pres 
ent  conditions  would  be  most  unfair. 

R   H.  D. 


THE  CONSUL 

FOR  over  forty  years,  in  one 
part  of  the  world  or  another, 
old  man  Marshall  had  served 
his  country  as  a  United  States  con 
sul.  He  had  been  appointed  by 
Lincoln.  For  a  quarter  of  a  cen 
tury  that  fact  was  his  distinction. 
It  was  now  his  epitaph.  But  in 
former  years,  as  each  new  adminis 
tration  succeeded  the  old,  it  had 
again  and  again  saved  his  official 
head.  When  victorious  and  vora 
cious  place-hunters,  searching  the 
map  of  the  world  for  spoils,  dug 
out  his  hiding-place  and  demanded 
his  consular  sign  as  a  reward  for  a 
[1] 


THE  CONSUL 

younger  and  more  aggressive  party 
worker,  the  ghost  of  the  dead  Presi 
dent  protected  him.  In  the  State 
Department,  Marshall  had  become  a 
tradition.  "You  can't  touch  HIM!" 
the  State  Department  would  say; 
"why,  HE  was  appointed  by  Lin 
coln!"  Secretly,  for  this  weapon 
against  the  hungry  head-hunters, 
the  department  was  infinitely  grate 
ful.  Old  man  Marshall  was  a  con 
sul  after  its  own  heart.  Like  a  sol 
dier,  he  was  obedient,  disciplined; 
wherever  he  was  sent,  there,  with 
out  question,  he  would  go.  Nev 
er  against  texile,  against  ill-health, 
against  climate  did  he  make  com 
plaint.  Nor  when  he  was  moved  on 
and  down  to  make  way  for  some 
ne'er-do-well  with  influence,  with  a 
brother-in-law  in  the  Senate,  with  a 

[2] 


THE  CONSUL 

cousin  owning  a  newspaper,  with 
rich  relatives  who  desired  him  to 
drink  himself  to  death  at  the  ex 
pense  of  the  government  rather  than 
at  their  own,  did  old  man  Marshall 
point  to  his  record  as  a  claim  for 
more  just  treatment. 

And  it  had  been  an  excellent  rec 
ord.  His  official  reports,  in  a  quaint, 
stately  hand,  were  models  of  Eng 
lish;  full  of  information,  intelligent, 
valuable,  well  observed.  And  those 
few  of  his  countrymen,  who  stumbled 
upon  him  in  the  out-of- the- world 
places  to  which  of  late  he  had  been 
banished,  wrote  of  him  to  the  de 
partment  in  terms  of  admiration  and 
awe.  Never  had  he  or  his  friends 
petitioned  for  promotion,  until  it  was 
at  last  apparent  that,  save  for  his 
record  and  the  memory  of  his  dead 

[3] 


THE  CONSUL 

patron,  he  had  no  friends.  But, 
still,  in  the  department,  the  tradi 
tion  held,  and,  though  he  was  not 
advanced,  he  was  not  dismissed. 

"If  that  old  man's  been  feeding 
from  the  public  trough  ever  since 
the  Civil  War,"  protested  a  "prac 
tical"  politician,  "it  seems  to  me, 
Mr.  Secretary,  that  he's  about  had 
his  share.  Ain't  it  time  he  give 
some  one  else  a  bite  ?  Some  of  us 
that  has  done  the  work,  that  has 
borne  the  brunt " 

"This  place  he  now  holds,"  inter 
rupted  the  Secretary  of  State  suavely, 
"is  one  hardly  commensurate  with 
services  like  yours.  I  can't  pro 
nounce  the  name  of  it,  and  I'm  not 
sure  just  where  it  is,  but  I  see  that, 
of  the  last  six  consuls  we  sent  there, 
three  resigned  within  a  month  and 
[4] 


THE  CONSUL 

the  other  three  died  of  yellow-fever. 
Still,  if  you  insist ?" 

The  practical  politician  reconsid 
ered  hastily.  "I'm  not  the  sort," 
he  protested,  ."to  turn  out  a  man 
appointed  by  our  martyred  Presi 
dent.  Besides,  he's  so  old  now,  if 
the  fever  don't  catch  him,  he'll  die 
of  old  age,  anyway." 

The  Secretary  coughed  uncomfort 
ably.  "And  they  say,"  he  mur 
mured,  "republics  are  ungrateful." 

"I  didn't  quite  get  that,"  said  the 
practical  politician. 

Of  Porto  Banos,  of  the  Republic 
of  Colombia,  where  as  consul  Mr. 
Marshall  was  upholding  the  dignity 
of  the  United  States,  little  could  be 
said  except  that  it  possessed  a  sure 
harbor.  When  driven  from  the  Car 
ibbean  Sea  by  stress  of  weather,  the 
[5] 


THE  CONSUL 

largest  of  ocean  tramps,  and  even 
battleships,  could  find  in  its  protect 
ing  arms  of  coral  a  safe  shelter. 
But,  as  young  Mr.  Aiken  the  wire 
less  operator  pointed  out,  unless 
driven  by  a  hurricane  and  the  fear 
of  death,  no  one  ever  visited  it. 
Back  of  the  ancient  wharves,  that 
dated  from  the  days  when  Porto 
Banos  was  a  receiver  of  stolen  goods 
for  buccaneers  and  pirates,  were  rows 
of  thatched  huts,  streets,  according 
to  the  season,  of  dust  or  mud,  a  few 
iron-barred  jail-like  barracks,  cus 
tom-houses,  municipal  buildings,  and 
the  whitewashed  adobe  houses  of  the 
consuls.  The  back  yard  of  the  town 
was  a  swamp.  Through  this  at  five 
each  morning  a  rusty  engine  pulled 
a  train  of  flat  cars  to  the  base  of  the 
mountains,  and,  if  meanwhile  the 
[6] 


THE  CONSUL 

rails  had  not  disappeared  into  the 
swamp,  at  five  in  the  evening  brought 
back  the  flat  cars  laden  with  odorous 
coffee-sacks. 

In  the  daily  life  of  Porto  Banos, 
waiting  for  the  return  of  the  train, 
and  betting  if  it  would  return,  was 
the  chief  interest.  Each  night  the 
consuls,  the  foreign  residents,  the 
wireless  operator,  the  manager  of  the 
rusty  railroad  met  for  dinner.  There 
at  the  head  of  the  long  table,  by 
virtue  of  his  years,  of  his  courtesy 
and  distinguished  manner,  of  his 
office,  Mr.  Marshall  presided.  Of 
the  little  band  of  exiles  he  was  the 
chosen  ruler.  His  rule  was  gentle. 
By  force  of  example  he  had  made 
existence  in  Porto  Banos  more  pos 
sible.  For  women  and  children 
Porto  Banos  was  a  death-trap,  and 
[7] 


THE  CONSUL 

before  "old  man  Marshall"  came, 
there  had  been  no  influence  to  re 
mind  the  enforced  bachelors  of  other 
days.  They  had  lost  interest,  had 
grown  lax,  irritable,  morose.  Their 
white  duck  was  seldom  white.  Their 
cheeks  were  unshaven.  When  the 
sun  sank  into  the  swamp  and  the 
heat  still  turned  Porto  Banos  into  a 
Turkish  bath,  they  threw  dice  on  the 
greasy  tables  of  the  Cafe  Bolivar 
for  drinks.  The  petty  gambling  led 
to  petty  quarrels;  the  drinks  to 
fever.  The  coming  of  Mr.  Mar 
shall  changed  that.  His  standard  of 
life,  his  tact,  his  worldly  wisdom, 
his  cheerful  courtesy,  his  fastidious 
personal  neatness,  shamed  the  young 
er  men;  the  desire  to  please  him, 
to  stand  well  in  his  good  opinion, 
brought  back  pride  and  self-esteem. 
[8] 


THE  CONSUL 

The  lieutenant  of  her  Majesty's 
gun-boat  Plover  noted  the  change. 

"Used  to  be,"  he  exclaimed,  "you 
couldn't  get  out  of  the  Cafe  Bolivar 
without  some  one  sticking  a  knife  in 
you;  now  it's  a  debating  club.  They 
all  sit  round  a  table  and  listen  to  an 
old  gentleman  talk  world  politics." 

If  Henry  Marshall  brought  con 
tent  to  the  exiles  of  Porto  Banos, 
there  was  little  in  return  that  Porto 
Banos  could  give  to  him.  Maga 
zines  and  correspondents  in  six  lan 
guages  kept  him  in  touch  with  those 
foreign  lands  in  which  he  had  repre 
sented  his  country,  but  of  the  coun 
try  he  had  represented,  newspapers 
and  periodicals  showed  him  only  too 
clearly  that  in  forty  years  it  had 
grown  away  from  him,  had  changed 
beyond  recognition. 
[9] 


THE  CONSUL 

When  last  he  had  called  at  the 
State  Department,  he  had  been  made 
to  feel  he  was  a  man  without  a  coun 
try,  and  when  he  visited  his  home 
town  in  Vermont,  he  was  looked  upon 
as  a  Rip  Van  Winkle.  Those  of  his 
boyhood  friends  who  were  not  dead 
had  long  thought  of  him  as  dead. 
And  the  sleepy,  pretty  village  had 
become  a  bustling  commercial  centre. 
In  the  lanes  where,  as  a  young  man, 
he  had  walked  among  wheat-fields, 
trolley-cars  whirled  between  rows  of 
mills  and  factories.  The  children 
had  grown  to  manhood,  with  children 
of  their  own. 

Like  a  ghost,  he  searched  for 
house  after  house,  where  once  he  had 
been  made  welcome,  only  to  find  in 
its  place  a  towering  office  build 
ing.  "All  had  gone,  the  old  familiar 

[10] 


THE  CONSUL 

faces."  In  vain  he  scanned  even  the 
shop  fronts  for  a  friendly,  homelike 
name.  Whether  the  fault  was  his, 
whether  he  would  better  have  served 
his  own  interests  than  those  of  his 
government,  it  now  was  too  late  to 
determine.  In  his  own  home,  he  was 
a  stranger  among  strangers.  In  the 
service  he  had  so  faithfully  followed, 
rank  by  rank,  he  had  been  dropped, 
until  now,  he,  who  twice  had  been  a 
consul-general,  was  an  exile,  banished 
to  a  fever  swamp.  The  great  Ship  of 
State  had  dropped  him  overside,  had 
"marooned"  him,  and  sailed  away. 

Twice  a  day  he  walked  along  the 
shell  road  to  the  Cafe  Bolivar,  and 
back  again  to  the  consulate.  There, 
as  he  entered  the  outer  office,  Jose, 
the  Colombian  clerk,  would  rise  and 
bow  profoundly. 

[il] 


THE  CONSUL 

"Any  papers  for  me  to  sign, 
Jose?"  the  consul  would  ask. 

"Not  to-day,  Excellency,"  the 
clerk  would  reply.  Then  Jose  would 
return  to  writing  a  letter  to  his  lady 
love,  not  that  there  was  anything  to 
tell  her,  but  because  writing  on  the 
official  paper  of  the  consulate  gave 
him  importance  in  his  eyes,  and  in 
hers.  And  in  the  inner  office  the 
consul  would  continue  to  gaze  at  the 
empty  harbor,  the  empty  coral  reefs, 
the  empty  burning  sky. 

The  little  band  of  exiles  were  at 
second  breakfast,  when  the  wireless 
man  came  in  late  to  announce  that  a 
Red  D.  boat  and  the  island  of  Cura- 
£oa  had  both  reported  a  hurricane 
coming  north.  Also,  that  much  con 
cern  was  felt  for  the  safety  of  the 
yacht  Serapis.  Three  days  before, 


THE  CONSUL 

in  advance  of  her  coming,  she  had 
sent  a  wireless  to  Wilhelmstad,  ask 
ing  the  captain  of  the  port  to  reserve 
a  berth  for  her.  She  expected  to  ar 
rive  the  following  morning. 

But  for  forty-eight  hours  nothing 
had  been  heard  from  her,  and  it  was 
believed  she  had  been  overhauled 
by  the  hurricane.  Owing  to  the 
presence  on  board  of  Senator  Han- 
ley,  the  closest  friend  of  the  new 
President,  the  man  who  had  made 
him  president,  much  concern  was 
felt  at  Washington.  To  try  to  pick 
her  up  by  wireless,  the  gun-boat 
Newark  had  been  ordered  from  Cule- 
bra,  the  cruiser  Raleigh,  with  Ad 
miral  Hardy  on  board,  from  Colon. 
It  was  possible  she  would  seek  shel 
ter  at  Porto  Banos.  The  consul  was 
ordered  to  report. 

[13] 


THE  CONSUL 

As  Marshall  wrote  out  his  answer, 
the  French  consul  exclaimed  with  in 
terest: 

"He  is  of  importance,  then,  this 
senator?"  he  asked.  "Is  it  that  in 
your  country  ships  of  war  are  at  the 
service  of  a  senator?" 

Aiken,  the  wireless  operator, 
grinned  derisively. 

"At  the  service  of  this  senator, 
they  are ! "  he  answered.  "They  call 
him  the  'king-maker,'  the  man  be 
hind  the  throne." 

"But,  in  your  country,"  protested 
the  Frenchman,  "  there  is  no  throne. 
I  thought  your  president  was  elected 
by  the  people?" 

"That's  what  the  people  think," 
answered  Aiken.  "In  God's  coun 
try,"  he  explained,  "the  trusts  want 
a  rich  man  in  the  Senate,  with  the 

[14] 


THE  CONSUL 

same  interests  as  their  own,  to  rep 
resent  them.  They  chose  Hanley. 
He  picked  out  of  the  candidates  for 
the  presidency  the  man  he  thought 
would  help  the  interests.  He  nomi 
nated  him,  and  the  people  voted  for 
him.  Hanley  is  what  we  call  a 
'boss.'  " 

The  Frenchman  looked  inquiringly 
at  Marshall. 

"The  position  of  the  boss  is  the 
more  dangerous,"  said  Marshall 
gravely,  "because  it  is  unofficial, 
because  there  are  no  laws  to  curtail 
his  powers.  Men  like  Senator  Han 
ley  are  a  menace  to  good  govern 
ment.  They  see  in  public  office  only 
a  reward  for  party  workers." 

"That's  right,"  assented  Aiken. 
"Your  forty  years'  service, Mr.  Con 
sul,  wouldn't  count  with  Hanley.  If 

[15] 


THE  CONSUL 

he  wanted  your  job,  he'd  throw  you 
out  as  quick  as  he  would  a  drunken 
cook." 

Mr.  Marshall  flushed  painfully,  and 
the  French  consul  hastened  to  in 
terrupt. 

"Then,  let  us  pray,"  he  exclaimed, 
with  fervor,  "that  the  hurricane  has 
sunk  the  Serapis,  and  all  on  board." 

Two  hours  later,  the  Serapis,  show 
ing  she  had  met  the  hurricane  and 
had  come  out  second  best,  steamed 
into  the  harbor. 

Her  owner  was  young  Herbert  Liv 
ingstone,  of  Washington.  He  once 
had  been  in  the  diplomatic  service, 
and,  as  minister  to  The  Hague, 
wished  to  return  to  it.  In  order  to 
bring  this  about  he  had  subscribed 
liberally  to  the  party  campaign 
fund. 

[16] 


THE  CONSUL 

With  him,  among  other  distin 
guished  persons,  was  the  all-powerful 
Hanley.  The  kidnapping  of  Hanley 
for  the  cruise,  in  itself,  demonstrated 
the  ability  of  Livingstone  as  a  dip 
lomat.  It  was  the  opinion  of  many 
that  it  would  surely  lead  to  his  ap 
pointment  as  a  minister  plenipoten 
tiary.  Livingstone  was  of  the  same 
opinion.  He  had  not  lived  long  in 
the  nation's  capital  without  observ 
ing  the  value  of  propinquity.  How 
many  men  he  knew  were  now  pay 
masters,  and  secretaries  of  legation, 
solely  because  those  high  in  the  gov 
ernment  met  them  daily  at  the 
Metropolitan  Club,  and  preferred 
them  in  almost  any  other  place. 
And  if,  after  three  weeks  as  his  guest 
on  board  what  the  newspapers  called 
his  floating  palace,  the  senator  could 

[17] 


THE  CONSUL 

refuse  him  even  the  prize  legation  of 
Europe,  there  was  no  value  in 
modest  merit.  As  yet,  Livingstone 
had  not  hinted  at  his  ambition. 
There  was  no  need.  To  a  statesman 
of  Hanley's  astuteness,  the  large 
ness  of  Livingstone's  contribution 
to  the  campaign  fund  was  self-ex 
planatory. 

After  her  wrestling-match  with  the 
hurricane,  all  those  on  board  the 
Serapis  seemed  to  find  in  land,  even 
in  the  swamp  land  of  Porto  Banos,  a 
compelling  attraction.  Before  the 
anchors  hit  the  water,  they  were  in 
the  launch.  On  reaching  shore,  .they 
made  at  once  for  the  consulate. 
There  were  many  cables  they  wished 
to  start  on  their  way  by  wireless; 
cables  to  friends,  to  newspapers,  to 
the  government. 

[18] 


THE  CONSUL 

Jose,  the  Colombian  clerk,  ap 
palled  by  the  unprecedented  invasion 
of  visitors,  of  visitors  so  distinguished, 
and  Marshall,  grateful  for  a  chance 
to  serve  his  fellow-countrymen,  and 
especially  his  countrywomen,  were 
ubiquitous,  eager,  indispensable.  At 
Jose's  desk  the  great  senator,  rolling 
his  cigar  between  his  teeth,  was 
using,  to  Jose's  ecstasy,  Jose's  own 
pen  to  write  a  reassuring  message  to 
the  White  House.  At  the  consul's 
desk  a  beautiful  creature,  all  in  lace 
and  pearls,  was  struggling  to  com 
press  the  very  low  opinion  she  held 
of  a  hurricane  into  ten  words.  On 
his  knee,  Henry  Cairns,  the  banker, 
was  inditing  instructions  to  his  Wall 
Street  office,  and  upon  himself  Liv 
ingstone  had  taken  the  responsibility 
of  replying  to  the  inquiries  heaped 

[19] 


THE  CONSUL 

upon  Marshall's   desk,   from   many 
newspapers. 

It  was  just  before  sunset,  and 
Marshall  produced  his  tea  things,  and 
the  young  person  in  pearls  and  lace, 
who  was  Miss  Cairns,  made  tea  for 
the  women,  and  the  men  mixed  gin 
and  limes  with  tepid  water.  The 
consul  apologized  for  proposing  a 
toast  in  which  they  could  not  join. 
He  begged  to  drink  to  those  who  had 
escaped  the  perils  of  the  sea.  Had 
they  been  his  oldest  and  nearest 
friends,  his  little  speech  could  not 
have  been  more  heart-felt  and  sin 
cere.  To  his  distress,  it  moved 
one  of  the  ladies  to  tears,  and,  in 
embarrassment,  he  turned  to  the 
men. 

"I  regret  there  is  no  ice,"  he  said, 
"but    you    know    the    rule    of   the 

[20] 


THE  CONSUL 

tropics;    as   soon   as   a   ship    enters 
port,  the  ice-machine  bursts." 

"I'll  tell  the  steward  to  send  you 
some,  sir,"  said  Livingstone,  "and  as 
long  as  we're  here " 

The  senator  showed  his  concern. 

"As  long  as  we're  here?"  he 
gasped. 

"Not  over  two  days,"  answered 
the  owner  nervously.  :<The  chief 
says  it  will  take  all  of  that  to  get 
her  in  shape.  As  you  ought  to 
know,  Senator,  she  was  pretty  bad 
ly  mauled." 

The  senator  gazed  blankly  out  of 
the  window.  Beyond  it  lay  the 
naked  coral  reefs,  the  empty  sky, 
and  the  ragged  palms  of  Porto 
Banos. 

Livingstone  felt  that  his  legation 
was  slipping  from  him. 

[21] 


THE  CONSUL 

"That  wireless  operator,"  he  con 
tinued  hastily,  "tells  me  there  is  a 
most  amusing  place  a  few  miles  down 
the  coast,  Las  Bocas,  a  sort  of  Coney 
Island,  where  the  government  people 
go  for  the  summer.  There's  surf 
bathing  and  roulette  and  cafes  chan- 
tant.  He  says  there's  some  Spanish 
dancers " 

The  guests  of  the  Serapis  ex 
claimed  with  interest;  the  senator 
smiled.  To  Marshall  the  general  en 
thusiasm  over  the  thought  of  a  ride 
on  a  merry-go-round  suggested  that 
the  friends  of  Mr.  Livingstone  had 
found  their  own  society  far  -  from 
satisfying. 

Greatly  encouraged,  Livingstone 
continued,  with  enthusiasm: 

"And  that  wireless  man  said,"  he 
added,  "that  with  the  launch  we 

[22] 


THE   CONSUL 

can  get  there  in  half  an  hour.     We 
might  run  down  after  dinner." 

He  turned  to  Marshall. 

"Will  you  join  us,  Mr.  Con 
sul?"  he  asked,  "and  dine  with  us, 
first?" 

Marshall  accepted  with  genuine 
pleasure.  It  had  been  many  months 
since  he  had  sat  at  table  with  his  own 
people.  But  he  shook  his  head 
doubtfully. 

"I  was  wondering  about  Las  Bo- 
cas,"  he  explained,  "if  your  going 
there  might  not  get  you  in  trouble 
at  the  next  port.  With  a  yacht,  I 
think  it  is  different,  but  Las  Bocas  is 
under  quarantine " 

There  was  a  chorus  of  exclama 
tions. 

"It's  not  serious,"  Marshall  ex 
plained.  "There  was  bubonic  plague 

[23] 


THE  CONSUL 

there,  or  something  like  it.  You 
would  be  in  no  danger  from  that.  It 
is  only  that  you  might  be  held  up  by 
the  regulations.  Passenger  steamers 
can't  land  any  one  who  has  been 
there  at  any  other  port  of  the  West 
Indies.  The  English  are  especially 
strict.  The  Royal  Mail  won't  even 
receive  any  one  on  board  here,  with 
out  a  certificate  from  the  English 
consul  saying  he  has  not  visited 
Las  Bocas.  For  an  American  they 
would  require  the  same  guarantee 
from  me.  But  I  don't  think  the 
regulations  extend  to  yachts.  I 
will  inquire.  I  don't  wish  to  de 
prive  you  of  any  of  the  many  pleas 
ures  of  Porto  Banos,"  he  added, 
smiling,  "but  if  you  were  refused  a 
landing  at  your  next  port  I  would 
blame  myself." 

[24] 


THE  CONSUL 

"It's  all  right,"  declared  Living 
stone  decidedly.  "It's  just  as  you 
say;  yachts  and  war-ships  are  ex 
empt.  Besides,  I  carry  my  own 
doctor,  and  if  he  won't  give  us  a 
clean  bill  of  health  I'll  make  him 
walk  the  plank. ,  At  eight,  then,  at 
dinner.  I'll  send  the  cutter  for  you. 
I  can't  give  you  a  salute,  Mr.  Con 
sul,  but  you  shall  have  all  the  side 
boys  I  can  muster." 

Those  from  the  yacht  parted  from 
their  consul  in  the  most  friendly 
spirit. 

"I  think  he's  charming!"  ex 
claimed  Miss  Cairns.  "And  did  you 
notice  his  novels?  They  were  in 
every  language.  It  must  be  terribly 
lonely  down  here,  for  a  man  like 
that." 

"He's  the  first  of  our  consuls  we've 

[25] 


THE  CONSUL 

met  on  this  trip,"  growled  her  father, 
"that  we've  caught  sober." 

"Sober!"  exclaimed  his  wife  in 
dignantly.  "He's  one  of  the  Mar- 
shalls  of  Vermont.  I  asked  him." 

"I  wonder,"  mused  Hanley,  "how 
much  the  place  is  W9rth  ?  Hamilton, 
one  of  the  new  senators,  has  been 
devilling  the  life  out  of  me  to  send 
his  son  somewhere.  Says  if  he  stays 
in  Washington  he'll  disgrace  the 
family.  I  should  think  this  place 
would  drive  any  man  to  drink  him 
self  to  death  in  three  months,  and 
young  Hamilton,  from  what  I've 
seen  of  him,  ought  to  be  able  to  do  it 
in  a  week.  That  would  leave  the 
place  open  for  the  next  man. 

"There's  a  postmaster  in  my  State 
thinks  he  carried  it."  The  senator 
smiled  grimly.  "He  has  consump- 

[26] 


THE  CONSUL 

tion,  and  wants  us  to  give  him  a  con 
sulship  in  the  tropics.  I'll  tell  him 
I've  seen  Porto  Banos,  and  that  it's 
just  the  place  for  him." 

The  senator's  pleasantry  was  not 
well  received.  But  Miss  Cairns  alone 
had  the  temerity  to  speak  of  what 
the  others  were  thinking. 

"What  would  become  of  Mr.  Mar 
shall  ?"  she  asked. 

The  senator  smiled  tolerantly. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  was  thinking 
of  Mr.  Marshall,"  he  said.  "I  can't 
recall  anything  he  has  done  for 
this  administration.  You  see,  Miss 
Cairns,"  he  explained,  in  the  tone  of 
one  addressing  a  small  child,  "Mar 
shall  has  been  abroad  now  for  forty 
years,  at  the  expense  of  the  tax 
payers.  Some  of  us  think,  men  who 
have  lived  that  long  on  their  fellow- 

[27] 


THE  CONSUL 

countrymen  had  better  come  home 
and  get  to  work." 

Livingstone  nodded  solemnly  in 
assent.  He  did  not  wish  a  post 
abroad  at  the  expense  of  the  tax 
payers.  He  was  willing  to  pay  for 
it.  And  then,  with  "ex-Minister" 
on  his  visiting  cards,  and  a  sense  of 
duty  well  performed,  for  the  rest  of 
his  life  he  could  join  the  other  ex 
patriates  in  Paris. 

Just  before  dinner,  the  cruiser 
Raleigh  having  discovered  the  where 
abouts  of  the  Serapis  by  wireless,  en 
tered  the  harbor,  and  Admiral  Hardy 
came  to  the  yacht  to  call  upon 
the  senator,  in  whose  behalf  he  had 
been  scouring  the  Caribbean  Seas. 
Having  paid  his  respects  to  that  per 
sonage,  the  admiral  fell  boisterously 
upon  Marshall. 

[28] 


THE  CONSUL 

The  two  old  gentlemen  were 
friends  of  many  years.  They  had 
met,  officially  and  unofficially,  in 
many  strange  parts  of  the  world. 
To  each  the  chance  reunion  was  a 
piece  of  tremendous  good  fortune. 
And  throughout  dinner  the  guests  of 
Livingstone,  already  bored  with  each 
other,  found  in  them  and  their  talk 
of  former  days  new  and  delightful 
entertainment.  So  much  so  that 
when,  Marshall  having  assured  them 
that  the  local  quarantine  regula 
tions  did  not  extend  to  a  yacht,  the 
men  departed  for  Las  Bocas,  the 
women  insisted  that  he  and  the  ad 
miral  remain  behind. 

It  was  for  Marshall  a  wondrous 
evening.  To  forgather  with  his  old 
friend,  whom  he  had  known  since 
Hardy  was  a  mad  midshipman,  to 

[29] 


THE  CONSUL 

sit  at  the  feet  of  his  own  charming 
countrywomen,  to  listen  to  their  soft, 
modulated  laughter,  to  note  how 
quickly  they  saw  that  to  him  the 
evening  was  a  great  event,  and  with 
what  tact  each  contributed  to  make 
it  the  more  memorable;  all  served  to 
wipe  out  the  months  of  bitter  loneli 
ness,  the  stigma  of  failure,  the  sense 
of  undeserved  neglect.  In  the  moon 
light,  on  the  cool  quarter-deck,  they 
sat,  in  a  half  circle,  each  of  the  two 
friends  telling  tales  out  of  school, 
tales  of  which  the  other  was  the  hero 
or  the  victim,  "inside"  stories  of 
great  occasions,  ceremonies,  bom 
bardments,  unrecorded  "shirt-sleeve" 
diplomacy. 

Hardy  had  helped  to  open  the 
Suez  Canal.  Marshall  had  assisted 
the  Queen  of  Madagascar  to  escape 

[30] 


THE  CONSUL 

from  the  French  invaders.  On  the 
Barbary  Coast  Hardy  had  chased 
pirates.  In  Edinburgh  Marshall  had 
played  chess  with  Carlyle.  He  had 
seen  Paris  in  mourning  in  the  days 
of  the  siege,  Paris  in  terror  in  the 
days  of  the  Commune;  he  had 
known  Garibaldi,  Gambetta,  the 
younger  Dumas,  the  creator  of  Pick 
wick. 

"Do  you  remember  that  time  in 
Tangier,"  the  admiral  urged,  "when 
I  was  a  midshipman,  and  got  into  the 
bashaw's  harem?" 

"Do  you  remember  how  I  got  you 
out  ?"  Marshall  replied  grimly. 

"And,"  demanded  Hardy,  "do  you 
remember  when  Adelina  Patti  paid 
a  visit  to  the  Kearsarge  at  Marseilles 
in  '65 — George  Dewey  was  our  sec 
ond  officer,  and  you  were  bowing 

[31] 


THE  CONSUL 

and  backing  away  from  her,  and 
you  backed  into  an  open  hatch,  and 
she  said — my  French  isn't  up  to  it — 
what  was  it  she  said  ?" 

"I  didn't  hear  it,"  said  Marshall, 
"I  was  too  far  down  the  hatch." 

"Do  you  mean  the  old  Kear- 
sarge?"  asked  Mrs.  Cairns.  "Were 
you  in  the  service  then,  Mr.  Mar 
shall?" 

With  loyal  pride  in  his  friend,  the 
admiral  answered  for  him: 

"He  was  our  consul-general  at 
Marseilles!" 

There  was  an  uncomfortable  mo 
ment.  Even  those  denied  imagina 
tion  could  not  escape  the  contrast, 
could  see  in  their  mind's  eye  the 
great  harbor  of  Marseilles,  crowded 
with  the  shipping  of  the  world,  sur 
rounding  it  the  beautiful  city,  the 

[32] 


THE  CONSUL 

rival  of  Paris  to  the  north,  and  on  the 
battle-ship  the  young  consul-general 
making  his  bow  to  the  young  Em 
press  of  Song.  And  now,  before 
their  actual  eyes,  they  saw  the  vil 
lage  of  Porto  Banos,  a  black  streak 
in  the  night,  a  row  of  mud  shacks, 
at  the  end  of  the  wharf  a  single  lan 
tern  burning  yellow  in  the  clear 
moonlight. 

Later  in  the  evening,  Miss  Cairns 
led  the  admiral  to  one  side. 

"Admiral,"  she  began  eagerly, 
"  tell  me  about  your  friend.  Why  is 
he  here  ?  Why  don't  they  give  him 
a  place  worthy  of  him  ?  I've  seen 
many  of  our  representatives  abroad, 
and  I  know  we  cannot  afford  to 
waste  men  like  that."  The  girl  ex 
claimed  indignantly:  "He's  one  of 
the  most  interesting  men  I've  ever 

[33] 


THE  CONSUL 

met!  He's  lived  everywhere,  known 
every  one.  He's  a  distinguished 
man,  a  cultivated  man;  even  I  can 
see  he  knows  his  work,  that  he's 
a  diplomat,  born,  trained,  that 
he's-  -" 

The  admiral  interrupted  with  a 
growl. 

"You  don't  have  to  tell  ME  about 
Henry,"  he  protested.  "I've  known 
Henry  twenty-five  years.  If  Henry 
got  his  deserts,"  he  exclaimed  hotly, 
"he  wouldn't  be  a  consul  on  this 
coral  reef;  he'd  be  a  minister,  in 
Europe.  Look  at  me!  We're  the 
same  age.  We  started  together. 
When  Lincoln  sent  him  to  Morocco 
as  consul,  he  signed  my  commission 
as  a  midshipman.  Now,  I'm  an  ad 
miral.  Henry  has  twice  my  brains 
and  he's  been  a  consul-general,  and 

[34] 


THE  CONSUL 

he's  here,  back  at  the  foot  of  the 
ladder!" 

"Why?"  demanded  the  girl. 

"Because  the  navy  is  a  service, 
and  the  consular  service  isn't  a  ser 
vice.  Men  like  Senator  Hanley  use 
it  to  pay  their  debts.  While  Henry's 
been  serving  his  country  abroad, 
he's  lost  his  friends,  lost  his  'pull.' 
Those  politicians  up  at  Washington 
have  no  use  for  him.  They  don't 
consider  that  a  consul  like  Henry  can 
make  a  million  dollars  for  his  coun 
trymen.  He  can  keep  them  from 
shipping  goods  where  there's  no  mar 
ket,  show  them  where  there  is  a 
market."  The  admiral  snorted  con 
temptuously.  :<You  don't  have  to 
tell  ME  the  value  of  a  good  consul. 
But  those  politicians  don't  consider 
that.  They  only  see  that  he  has  a 

[35] 


THE  CONSUL 

job  worth  a  few  hundred  dollars,  and 
they  want  it,  and  if  he  hasn't  other 
politicians  to  protect  him,  they'll 
take  it." 

The  girl  raised  her  head. 

"Why  don't  you  speak  to  the  sen 
ator  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Tell  him  you've 
known  him  for  years,  that " 

"  Glad  to  do  it!"  exclaimed  the  ad 
miral,  heartily.  "It  won't  be  the 
first  time.  But  Henry  mustn't  know. 
He's  too  confoundedly  touchy.  He 
hates  the  idea  of  influence,  hates  men 
like  Hanley,  who  abuse  it.  If  he 
thought  anything  was  given  to  him 
except  on  his  merits,  he  wouldn't 
take  it." 

"Then  we  won't  tell  him,"  said  the 
girl.  For  a  moment  she  hesitated. 

"If  I  spoke  to  Mr.  Hanley,"  she 
asked,  "told  him  what  I  learned  to- 

[36] 


THE  CONSUL 

night  of  Mr.  Marshall,  would  it  have 
any  effect?" 

"Don't  know  how  it  will  affect 
Hanley,"  said  the  sailor,  "but  if 
you  asked  me  to  make  anybody  a 
consul-general,  I'd  make  him  an  am 
bassador." 

Later  in  the  evening  Hanley  and 
Livingstone  were  seated  alone  on 
deck.  The  visit  to  Las  Bocas  had 
not  proved  amusing,  but,  much  to 
Livingstone's  relief,  his  honored 
guest  was  now  in  good-humor.  He 
took  his  cigar  from  his  lips,  only  to 
sip  at  a  long  cool  drink.  He  was  in 
a  mood  flatteringly  confidential  and 
communicative. 

"People  have  the  strangest  idea 
of  what  I  can  do  for  them,"  he 
laughed.  It  was  his  pose  to  pre 
tend  he  was  without  authority. 

[37] 


THE  CONSUL 

"They  believe  I've  only  to  wave  a 
wand,  and  get  them  anything  they 
want.  I  thought  I'd  be  safe  from 
them  on  board  a  yacht." 

Livingstone,  in  ignorance  of  what 
was  coming,  squirmed  apprehen 
sively. 

"But  it  seems,"  the  senator  went 
on,  "I'm  at  the  mercy  of  a  con 
spiracy.  The  women  folk  want  me 
to  do  something  for  this  fellow 
Marshall.  If  they  had  their  way, 
they'd  send  him  to  the  Court  of 
St.  James.  And  old  Hardy,  too, 
tackled  me  about  him.  So  did  Miss 
Cairns.  And  then,  Marshall  himself 
got  me  behind  the  wheel-house, 
and  I  thought  he  was  going  to  tell 
me  how  good  he  was,  too!  But  he 
didn't." 

As  though  the  joke  were  on  him- 

[38] 


THE  CONSUL 

self,  the  senator  laughed  apprecia 
tively. 

"Told  me,  instead,  that  Hardy 
ought  to  be  a  vice-admiral." 

Livingstone,  also,  laughed,  with 
the  satisfied  air  of  one  who  cannot 
be  tricked. 

"They  fixed  it  up  between  them," 
he  explained,  "each  was  to  put  in  a 
good  word  for  the  other."  He 
nodded  eagerly.  "That's  what  / 
think." 

There  were  moments  during  the 
cruise  when  Senator  Hanley  would 
have  found  relief  in  dropping  his 
host  overboard.  With  mock  defer 
ence,  the  older  man  inclined  his  head. 

"That's  what  you  think,  is  it?" 
he  asked .  * ( Livings  tone, ' '  he  added , 
"you  certainly  are  a  great  judge  of 
men!" 

[39] 


THE  CONSUL 

The  next  morning,  old  man  Mar 
shall  woke  with  a  lightness  at  his 
heart  that  had  been  long  absent. 
For  a  moment,  conscious  only  that 
he  was  happy,  he  lay  between  sleep 
and  waking,  frowning  up  at  his  can 
opy  of  mosquito  net,  trying  to  re 
alize  what  change  had  come  to  him. 
Then  he  remembered.  His  old  friend 
had  returned.  New  friends  had 
come  into  his  life  and  welcomed 
him  kindly.  He  was  no  longer 
lonely.  As  eager  as  a  boy,  he  ran 
to  the  window.  He  had  not  been 
dreaming.  In  the  harbor,  lay  the 
pretty  yacht,  the  stately,  white- 
hulled  war-ship.  The  flag  that 
drooped  from  the  stern  of  each 
caused  his  throat  to  tighten,  brought 
warm  tears  to  his  eyes,  fresh  resolve 
to  his  discouraged,  troubled  spirit. 

[40] 


THE  CONSUL 

When  he  knelt  beside  his  bed,  his 
heart  poured  out  his  thanks  in  grati 
tude  and  gladness. 

While  he  was  dressing,  a  blue 
jacket  brought  a  note  from  the  ad 
miral.  It  invited  him  to  tea  on 
board  the  war-ship,  with  the  guests 
of  the  Serapis.  His  old  friend  ad 
ded  that  he  was  coming  to  lunch 
with  his  consul,  and  wanted  time 
reserved  for  a  long  talk.  The  con 
sul  agreed  gladly.  He  was  in  holi 
day  humor.  The  day  promised  to 
repeat  the  good  moments  of  the 
night  previous. 

At  nine  o'clock,  through  the  open 
door  of  the  consulate,  Marshall  saw 
Aiken,  the  wireless  operator,  signal 
ling  from  the  wharf  excitedly  to  the 
yacht,  and  a  boat  leave  the  ship  and 
return.  Almost  immediately  the 

[41] 


THE  CONSUL 

launch,  carrying  several  passengers, 
again  made  the  trip  shoreward. 

Half  an  hour  later,  Senator  Han- 
ley,  Miss  Cairns,  and  Livingstone 
came  up  the  water  front,  and  enter 
ing  the  consulate,  seated  themselves 
around  Marshall's  desk.  Living 
stone  was  sunk  in  melancholy.  The 
senator,  on  the  contrary,  was  smil 
ing  broadly.  His  manner  was  one 
of  distinct  relief.  He  greeted  the 
consul  with  hearty  good-humor. 

"I'm  ordered  home!"  he  an 
nounced  gleefully.  Then,  remember 
ing  the  presence  of  Livingstone,  he 
hastened  to  add:  "I  needn't  say 
how  sorry  I  am  to  give  up  my  yacht 
ing  trip,  but  orders  are  orders.  The 
President,"  he  explained  to  Marshall, 
"cables  me  this  morning  to  come 
back  and  take  my  coat  off." 


THE  CONSUL 

The  prospect,  as  a  change  from 
playing  bridge  on  a  pleasure  boat, 
seemed  far  from  depressing  him. 

"Those  filibusters  in  the  Senate," 
he  continued  genially,  "are  making- 
trouble  again.  They  think  they've 
got  me  out  of  the  way  for  another 
month,  but  they'll  find  they're 
wrong.  When  that  bill  comes  up, 
they'll  find  me  at  the  old  stand  and 
ready  for  business!"  Marshall  did 
not  attempt  to  conceal  his  personal 
disappointment. 

"I  am  so  sorry  you  are  leaving," 
he  said;  "selfishly  sorry,  I  mean. 
I'd  hoped  you  all  would  be  here  for 
several  days." 

He  looked  inquiringly  toward  Liv 
ingstone. 

"I  understood  the  Serapis  was  dis 
abled,"  he  explained. 

[43] 


THE  CONSUL 

"She  is,"  answered  Hanley.  "So's 
the  Raleigh.  At  a  pinch,  the  ad 
miral  might  have  stretched  the  regu 
lations  and  carried  me  to  Jamaica, 
but  the  Raleigh9 s  engines  are  knocked 
about  too.  I've  got  to  reach  Kings 
ton  Thursday.  The  German  boat 
leaves  there  Thursday  for  New 
York.  At  first  it  looked  as  though 
I  couldn't  do  it,  but  we  find  that 
the  Royal  Mail  is  due  to-day,  and 
she  can  get  me  to  Kingston  Wednes 
day  night.  It's  a  great  piece  of  luck. 
I  wouldn't  bother  you  with  my 
troubles,"  the  senator  explained 
pleasantly,  "but  the  agent  of  the 
Royal  Mail  here  won't  sell  me  a 
ticket  until  you've  put  your  seal  to 
this." 

He  extended  a  piece  of  printed 
paper. 

[44] 


THE   CONSUL 

As  Hanley  had  been  talking,  the 
face  of  the  consul  had  grown  grave. 
He  accepted  the  paper,  but  did  not 
look  at  it.  Instead,  he  regarded  the 
senator  with  troubled  eyes.  When 
he  spoke,  his  tone  was  one  of  gen 
uine  concern. 

"It  is  most  unfortunate,"  he  said. 
"But  I  am  afraid  the  Royal  Mail 
will  not  take  you  on  board.  Because 
of  Las  Bocas,"  he  explained.  "If 
we  had  only  known!"  he  added  re 
morsefully.  "  It  is  most  unfortunate." 

"Because  of  Las  Bocas!"  echoed 
Hanley.  "You  don't  mean  they'll 
refuse  to  take  me  to  Jamaica  because 
I  spent  half  an  hour  at  the  end  of  a 
wharf,  listening  to  a  squeaky  gram 
ophone?" 

"The  trouble,"  explained  Marshall, 
"is  this:  if  they  carried  you,  all  the 

[451 


THE  CONSUL 

other  passengers  would  be  held  in 
quarantine  for  ten  days,  and  there 
are  fines  to  pay,  and  there  would 
be  difficulties  over  the  mails.  But," 
he  added  hopefully,  "maybe  the 
regulations  have  been  altered.  I 
will  see  her  captain,  and  tell 
him " 

"See  her  captain!"  objected  Han- 
ley.  "Why  see  the  captain?  He 
doesn't  know  I've  been  to  that 
place.  Why  tell  him?  All  I  need 
is  a  clean  bill  of  health  from  you. 
That's  all  HE  wants.  You  have  only 
to  sign  that  paper." 

Marshall  regarded  the  senator  with 
surprise. 

"But  I  can't,"  he  said. 

"You  can't?     Why  not?" 

"Because  it  certifies  to  the  fact 
that  you  have  not  visited  Las  Bocas. 

[46] 


THE  CONSUL 

Unfortunately,  you  have  visited  Las 
Bocas." 

The  senator  had  been  walking  up 
and  down  the  room.  Now  he  seated 
himself,  and  stared  at  Marshall  curi 
ously. 

"It's  like  this,  Mr.  Marshall,"  he 
began  quietly.  "The  President  de 
sires  my  presence  in  Washington, 
thinks  I  can  be  of  some  use  to  him 
there  in  helping  carry  out  certain 
party  measures — measures  to  which 
he  pledged  himself  before  his  elec 
tion.  Down  here,  a  British  steam 
ship  line  has  laid  down  local  rules 
which,  in  my  case  anyway,  are 
ridiculous.  The  question  is,  are  you 
going  to  be  bound  by  the  red  tape 
of  a  ha'penny  British  colony,  or  by 
your  oath  to  the  President  of  the 
United  States?" 

[47] 


THE  CONSUL 

The  sophistry  amused  Marshall. 
He  smiled  good-naturedly,  and  shook 
his  head. 

"I'm  afraid,  Senator,"  he  said, 
"that  way  of  putting  it  is  hardly 
fair.  Unfortunately,  the  question  is 
one  of  fact.  I  will  explain  to  the 
captain " 

"You  will  explain  nothing  to  the 
captain!"  interruptedHanley.  "This 
is  a  matter  which  concerns  no  one 
but  our  two  selves.  I  am  not  ask 
ing  favors  of  steamboat  captains. 
I  am  asking  an  American  consul  to 
assist  an  American  citizen  in  trouble, 
and,"  he  added,  with  heavy  sarcasm, 
"incidentally,  to  carry  out  the  wishes 
of  his  president." 

Marshall  regarded  the  senator  with 
an  expression  of  both  surprise  and 
disbelief. 

[48] 


THE  CONSUL 

"Are  you  asking  me  to  put  my 
name  to  what  is  not  so?"  he  said. 
"Are  you  serious?" 

"That  paper,  Mr.  Marshall,"  re 
turned  Hanley  steadily,  "is  a  mere 
form,  a  piece  of  red  tape.  There's  no 
more  danger  of  my  carrying  the 
plague  to  Jamaica  than  of  my  carry 
ing  a  dynamite  bomb.  You  know 
that." 

"I  do  know  that,"  assented  Mar 
shall  heartily.  "I  appreciate  your 
position,  and  I  regret  it  exceedingly. 
You  are  the  innocent  victim  of  a 
regulation  which  is  a  wise  regulation, 
but  which  is  most  unfair  to  you.  My 
own  position,"  he  added,  "is  not  im 
portant,  but  you  can  believe  me,  it 
is  not  easy.  It  is  certainly  no  pleas 
ure  for  me,  to  be  unable  to  help 
you." 

[49] 


THE  CONSUL 

Hanley  was  leaning  forward,  his 
hands  on  his  knees,  his  eyes  watch 
ing  Marshall  closely. 

"Then  you  refuse?"  he  said. 
"Why?" 

Marshall  regarded  the  senator 
steadily.  His  manner  was  un 
troubled.  The  look  he  turned  upon 
Hanley  was  one  of  grave  disapproval. 
'You  know  why,"  he  answered 
quietly.  "It  is  impossible." 

In  sudden  anger  Hanley  rose. 
Marshall,  who  had  been  seated  be 
hind  his  desk,  also  rose.  For  a  mo 
ment,  in  silence,  the  two  men  con 
fronted  each  other.  Then  Hanley 
spoke,  his  tone  was  harsh  and 
threatening. 

"Then  I  am  to  understand,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  that  you  refuse  to  carry 
out  the  wishes  of  a  United  States 

[50] 


THE  CONSUL 

Senator  and  of  the  President  of  the 
United  States?" 

In  front  of  Marshall,  on  his  desk, 
was  the  little  iron  stamp  of  the  con 
sulate.  Protectingly,  almost  caress 
ingly,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  it. 

"I  refuse,"  he  corrected,  "to  place 
the  seal  of  this  consulate  on  a  lie." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause. 
Miss  Cairns,  unwilling  to  remain, 
and  unable  to  withdraw,  clasped  her 
hands  unhappily  and  stared  at  the 
floor.  Livingstone  exclaimed  in  in 
dignant  protest.  Hanley  moved  a 
step  nearer  and,  to  emphasize  what 
he  said,  tapped  his  knuckles  on  the 
desk.  With  the  air  of  one  confident 
of  his  advantage,  he  spoke  slowly 
and  softly. 

"Do  you  appreciate,"  he  asked, 
"  that,  while  you  may  be  of  some  im- 

[51] 


THE  CONSUL 

portance  down  here  in  this  fever- 
swamp,  in  Washington  I  am  sup 
posed  to  carry  some  weight?  Do 
you  appreciate  that  I  am  a  senator 
from  a  State  that  numbers  four  mill 
ions  of  people,  and  that  you  are 
preventing  me  from  serving  those 
people?" 

Marshall  inclined  his  head  gravely 
and  politely. 

"And  I  want  you  to  appreciate," 
he  said,  "that  while  I  have  no 
weight  at  Washington,  in  this  fever- 
swamp  I  have  the  honor  to  repre 
sent  eighty  millions  of  people,  and 
as  long  as  that  consular  sign  is  over 
my  door  I  don't  intend  to  prostitute 
it  for  you,  or  the  President  of  the 
United  States,  or  any  one  of  those 
eighty  millions." 

Of  the  two  men,  the  first  to  lower 

[52] 


THE  CONSUL 

his  eyes  was  Hanley.  He  laughed 
shortly,  and  walked  to  the  door. 
There  he  turned,  and  indifferently, 
as  though  the  incident  no  longer  in 
terested  him,  drew  out  his  watch. 

"Mr.  Marshall,"  he  said,  "if  the 
cable  is  working,  I'll  take  your  tin 
sign  away  from  you  by  sunset." 

For  one  of  Marshall's  traditions, 
to  such  a  speech  there  was  no  answer 
save  silence.  He  bowed,  and,  ap 
parently  serene  and  undismayed, 
resumed  his  seat.  From  the  con 
test,  judging  from  the  manner  of 
each,  it  was  Marshall,  not  Hanley, 
who  had  emerged  victorious. 

But  Miss  Cairns  was  not  deceived. 
Under  the  unexpected  blow,  Mar 
shall  had  turned  older.  His  clear 
blue  eyes  had  grown  less  alert,  his 
broad  shoulders  seemed  to  stoop. 

[53] 


THE  CONSUL 

In   sympathy,   her  own  eyes  filled 
with  sudden  tears. 

"What  will  you  do?"  she  whis 
pered. 

"I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do," 
said  Marshall  simply.  "I  should 
have  liked  to  have  resigned.  It's  a 
prettier  finish.  After  forty  years — 
to  be  dismissed  by  cable  is — it's  a 
poor  way  of  ending  it." 

Miss  Cairns  rose  and  walked  to  the 
door.  There  she  turned  and  looked 
back. 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  said.  And  both 
understood  that  in  saying  no  more 
than  that  she  had  best  shown  her 
sympathy. 

An  hour  later  the  sympathy  of 
Admiral  Hardy  was  expressed  more 
directly. 

"If  he  comes  on  board  my  ship," 

[54] 


THE  CONSUL 

roared  that  gentleman,  "I'll  push 
him  down  an  ammunition  hoist  and 
break  his  damned  neck!" 

Marshall  laughed  delightedly.  The 
loyalty  of  his  old  friend  was  never  so 
welcome. 

;i  You'll  treat  him  with  every  cour 
tesy,"  he  said.  "The  only  satisfac 
tion  he  gets  out  of  this  is  to  see  that 
he  has  hurt  me.  We  will  not  give 
him  that  satisfaction." 

But  Marshall  found  that  to  con 
ceal  his  wound  was  more  difficult 
than  he  had  anticipated.  When,  at 
tea  time,  on  the  deck  of  the  war-ship  ? 
he  again  met  Senator  Hanley  and 
the  guests  of  the  Serapis,  he  could 
not  forget  that  his  career  had  come 
to  an  end.  There  was  much  to  re 
mind  him  that  this  was  so.  He  was 
made  aware  of  it  by  the  sad,  sym- 

[55] 


THE  CONSUL 

pathetic  glances  of  the  women;  by 
their  tactful  courtesies;  by  the  fact 
that  Livingstone,  anxious  to  pro 
pitiate  Hanley,  treated  him  rudely; 
by  the  sight  of  the  young  officers, 
each  just  starting  upon  a  career  of 
honor,  and  possible  glory,  as  his 
career  ended  in  humiliation;  and  by 
the  big  war-ship  herself,  that  re 
called  certain  crises  when  he  had 
only  to  press  a  button,  and  war 
ships  had  come  at  his  bidding. 

At  five  o'clock  there  was  an  awk 
ward  moment.  The  Royal  Mail  boat, 
having  taken  on  her  cargo,  passed 
out  of  the  harbor  on  her  way  to  Ja 
maica,  and  dipped  her  colors.  Sena 
tor  Hanley,  abandoned  to  his  fate, 
observed  her  departure  in  silence. 

Livingstone,  hovering  at  his  side, 
asked  sympathetically: 

[56] 


THE  CONSUL 

"Have  they  answered  your  cable, 
sir?" 

"They  have,"  said  Hanley  gruffly. 

"Was  it — was  it  satisfactory?" 
pursued  the  diplomat. 

"It  was,"  said  the  senator,  with 
emphasis. 

Far  from  discouraged,  Livingstone 
continued  his  inquiries. 

"And  when,"  he  asked  eagerly, 
"are  you  going  to  tell  him?" 

"Now!"  said  the  senator. 

The  guests  were  leaving  the  ship. 
When  all  were  seated  in  the  ad 
miral's  steam  launch,  the  admiral 
descended  the  accommodation  ladder 
and  himself  picked  up  the  tiller  ropes. 

"Mr.  Marshall,"  he  called,  "when 
I  bring  the  launch  broadside  to  the 
ship  and  stop  her,  you  will  stand 
ready  to  receive  the  consul's  salute." 

[57] 


THE  CONSUL 

Involuntarily,  Marshall  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  protest.  He  had  for 
gotten  that  on  leaving  the  war-ship, 
as  consul,  he  was  entitled  to  seven 
guns.  Had  he  remembered,  he 
would  have  insisted  that  the  cere 
mony  be  omitted.  He  knew  that 
the  admiral  wished  to  show  his  loy 
alty,  knew  that  his  old  friend  was 
now  paying  him  this  honor  only  as 
a  rebuke  to  Hanley.  But  the  cere 
mony  was  no  longer  an  honor. 
Hanley  had  made  of  it  a  mockery. 
It  served  only  to  emphasize  what 
had  been  taken  from  him.  But, 
without  a  scene,  it  now  was  too  late 
to  avoid  it.  The  first  of  the  seven 
guns  had  roared  from  the  bow,  and, 
as  often  he  had  stood  before,  as 
never  he  would  so  stand  again,  Mar 
shall  took  his  place  at  the  gangway 

[58] 


THE  CONSUL 

of  the  launch.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
on  the  flag,  his  gray  head  was  un 
covered,  his  hat  was  pressed  above 
his  heart. 

For  the  first  time  since  Hanley 
had  left  the  consulate,  he  fell  into  a 
sudden  terror  lest  he  might  give  way 
to  his  emotions.  Indignant  at  the 
thought,  he  held  himself  erect.  His 
face  was  set  like  a  mask,  his  eyes 
were  untroubled.  He  was  deter 
mined  they  should  not  see  that  he 
was  suffering. 

Another  gun  spat  out  a  burst  of 
white  smoke,  a  stab  of  flame.  There 
was  an  echoing  roar.  Another  and 
another  followed.  Marshall  counted 
seven,  and  then,  with  a  bow  to  the 
admiral,  backed  from  the  gangway. 

And  then  another  gun  shattered 
the  hot,  heavy  silence.  Marshall, 

[59] 


THE   CONSUL 

confused,  embarrassed,  assuming  he 
had  counted  wrong,  hastily  returned 
to  his  place.  But  again  before  he 
could  leave  it,  in  savage  haste  a 
ninth  gun  roared  out  its  greeting. 
He  could  not  still  be  mistaken.  He 
turned  appealingly  to  his  friend. 
The  eyes  of  the  admiral  were  fixed 
upon  the  war-ship.  Again  a  gun 
shattered  the  silence.  Was  it  a  jest  ? 
Were  they  laughing  at  him?  Mar 
shall  flushed  miserably.  He  gave  a 
swift  glance  toward  the  others.  They 
were  smiling.  Then  it  was  a  jest. 
Behind  his  back,  something  of  which 
they  all  were  cognizant  was  going 
forward.  The  face  of  Livingstone 
alone  betrayed  a  like  bewilderment 
to  his  own.  But  the  others,  who 
knew,  were  mocking  him. 

For    the    thirteenth    time    a    gun 

[60] 


THE  CONSUL 

shook  the  brooding  swamp  land  of 
Porto  Banos.  And  then,  and  not 
until  then,  did  th$  flag  crawl  slowly 
from  the  mast-head.  Mary  Cairns 
broke  the  tenseness  by  bursting  into 
tears.  But  Marshall  saw  that  every 
one  else,  save  she  and  Livingstone, 
were  still  smiling.  Even  the  blue 
jackets  in  charge  of  the  launch  were 
grinning  at  him.  He  was  beset  by 
smiling  faces.  And  then  from  the 
war-ship,  unchecked,  came,  against 
all  regulations,  three  long,  splendid 
cheers. 

Marshall  felt  his  lips  quivering, 
the  warm  tears  forcing  their  way  to 
his  eyes.  He  turned  beseechingly 
to  his  friend.  His  voice  trembled. 

"Charles,"  he  begged,  "are  they 
laughing  at  me  ?" 

Eagerly,   before    the   other   could 

[61] 


THE  CONSUL 

answer,  Senator  Hanley  tossed  his 
cigar  into  the  water  and,  scrambling 
forward,  seized  Marshall  by  the 
hand. 

"Mr.  Marshall,"  he  cried,  "our 
President  has  great  faith  in  Abraham 
Lincoln's  judgment  of  men.  And 
this  salute  means  that  this  morning 
he  appointed  you  our  new  minister 
to  The  Hague.  I'm  one  of  those 
politicians  who  keeps  his  word.  I 
told  you  I'd  take  your  tin  sign 
away  from  you  by  sunset.  I've 
done  it!" 


[62] 


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LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

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N?  816989 

PS1522 

Davis,  R.H.  C6 

The  consul. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
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